


In Her Aspect and Her Eyes

by ninhursag



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Femslash, Multi, Pon Farr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-06 17:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four people Jamie Kirk likes the look of, and the one she loves. An always a girl genderswap au</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Aspect and Her Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Pon Farr related dubious consent. Pathos.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |  [star trek](http://vaingirlfic.livejournal.com/tag/star+trek)  
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Uhura (the first time)

The first thing Uhura notices is that Jamie Kirk has long legs and short hair drifting in an artless, tousled mess. Her expression is artless too, like she grew up playing ball with the boys and no one ever taught her to flirt using anything but a broad grin and frank stare. "Come on, tell me your first name and I'll tell you ten awesome things I can do with my tongue."

Uhura grins back and leans forward on the bar before she even knows she's doing it, like Jamie's a magnet and it's a physical response. She almost doesn't hear Cadet Matthews come up to the bar and grumble, "This little townie bothering you?" The guy's drunk and ugly with it, but that's nothing new.

Uhura just rolls her eyes, more at Jamie's mocking expression than Matthews. "Beyond belief, but I think I can handle her."

"You're right, you can handle me," Jamie says and her eyes are blue and sincere again like she has no doubt every word is true. She raises a glass like it's a salute. For a second Uhura actually thinks about it... blue eyes and long limbs in her bed. That pretty smile stretched wide as those pretty legs.

It would never have got anywhere but an idle thought if Matthews didn't cut back in, too close, hot boozy stink to his breath, "Fuck that. What a townie slut like you needs is a good hard dicking to knock you down a rung. Show you some handling."

Uhura flinches back, shocked more than anything else, but Jamie's eyes go narrow and she laughs, twisted up like she's not even surprised. "Believe me, you're not the first volunteer, Cupcake," she says and leans forward to pat him on the cheek. Her smile is sheer, brittle gall. "You won't be the last. Now fuck off home."

It's a taunt, everyone at the bar can hear it and it makes Matthew's face flame up as red as his uniform. He growls something Uhura doesn't catch and the next thing she knows he's reaching for Jamie and Jamie's driving her fist into his nose.

When Matthews hits back, big meaty hand in Jamie's face, someone's screaming and she thinks it's her. She feels small and sick and cowardly, standing on the sidelines yelling, her arms wrapped around her stomach. Worse when Jamie catches her eyes between ducking Matthews and being thrown into the bar and just... smiles at her, sweet and bloody, shiny as a gift wrapped package.

"How about that first name!" she calls out of the maelstrom of the fight.

It turns out to be fair warning, things are going to be like that with Jamie Kirk a lot.

 

McCoy

She's this pretty little thing, beat to hell but whistling cheerfully and sitting next to the only empty seat in the goddamned shuttle. There's blood on her shirt but she grins at him when he looks at it funny. "I know what you're thinking, but honest, you should see the other guy," she says and offers him her hand. "Jamie Kirk."

He offers her a drink and forgets that he hates flying, at least for the moment. She feeds him bullshit about a barfight and an asshole cadet, none of which explains why she's on a recruiting shuttle headed for Starfleet and he tells her he's got nothing, not even a planet anymore, just his own goddamned bones.

She laughs out loud, "And some _fine_ bones they are," she says, and raises his own whiskey flask in a toast to him. "Nice to meet you."

When they get off the shuttle she walks away whistling and he doesn't expect to see her again. Instead later in the middle of that first night at the Academy, she lets herself into his narrow ass single of a dorm room. He's pulled out of sleep, rubbing his eyes, too confused to ask how she even got in, never mind why. He doesn't know her well enough yet to know she's got a mind for code like a Vulcan hot on a logic puzzle and that no lock is going to stop her.

He doesn't care either, not when she strips off her shirt and trousers before climbs into bed with him, on her hands and knees and grinning, wide and white. She isn't wearing a bra, just a thin white undershirt that her nipples poke through. He wants to see them. Wants to taste them, knows they'll be brown and perky and sweet without even seeing them.

"Hi," she says. Her glance is cool and calm and honest. Her eyes are so blue, a startling contrast to the sick yellows and greens of her fading bruises. "I don't normally do guys, but a girl's gotta drive stick sometime or her skills will get rusty. Cool?"

He swallows, his throat is dry as a good vermouth and his tongue feels sticky. He knows his manners though, so he nods and says his, "Yes, ma'am," even while his dick starts to twitch its way into a salute of appreciation.

"Excellent," she says and tugs the blanket off him with one pull and starts crawling up close. His hands shake a little, and god, it's been a long time since he's touched a woman, he and Jocelyn had been broken down a long time before the type was set on the divorce papers.

She seems to get that somehow, without him ever saying a word. Her hands are careful on his, slim and callused fingertips, and she slides her fingers through hers. "Hey," she whispers. "You're really... you're actually sweet, aren't you? Relax, I got you."

She takes one of his trembling hands and slides it through the wide arm gap of her undershirt, bringing it to rest against the thin curve of her breast. He lets the other come to rest on her ass and that makes her laugh, bright and happy. She rubs her cheek against his, just for a second, and then frowns like a startled cat, backing off. "I hate stubble. If we're going to do this more often, you're going to have to invest in a better beard suppressor. Or, you know... shave."

He rolls his eyes at her, "I'm a doctor, not a pretty boy. Besides, you're the one who doesn't do guys, why would I be expecting a repeat?"

She laughs, pretty mouth curling so sweetly, and puts one hand down his pajama pants, wrapping it around his dick in one smooth, easy gesture that makes him groan out a sticky sounding noise. He forgets to be nervous.

By the time she's got her panties around one ankle and him stripped bare he forgets everything but how warm and tight she is, sliding down on his cock like it's the easiest thing in the world. The only thing filling his vision is her, riding him from on high with her hair tousled like the halo of a debauched angel.

She slips out of bed afterwards, when he's too bowled over and stunned to object. She just kisses him on the forehead, tugs her clothes back on, and saunters out the door. It does happen again, but not as much as he'd like.

Gaila

Humans are fun, Gaila decides half way into her first week at the Academy. They stare a little too hard, especially the men, and there's something ridiculous about the way their mouths hang open when she's out of a uniform and wearing one of her old dresses for someone's dorm party on a Saturday night. But, still, fun.

Their music is loud and the drinks flow freely and Gaila likes to flow with it. She wanders from dorm room to dorm room and it feels like all the doors are open to her and she likes that best of all. No locks, everything moves.

She comes to a quieter room down the hall, no music, just laughing people sitting in a circle on the floor, an empty bottle laying forlornly in the middle of the circle. One of the people in the circle looks up and Gaila recognizes Cadet Kirk-- Jamie-- from one of her engineering classes. She wouldn't forget her, it's not just that she's nice to look at, even for a human, it's also because whenever the Professor Arlac calls on her she always knows the answers. Even one week into class the Professor seems to call on Jamie a lot.

Now Jamie's wearing a tight white t-shirt that clings to her flat stomach and a pair of black jeans. Nothing else-- her bare feet are poking out and Gaila sees that her toe nails are painted a pale pink. She grins, wide and open, when she sees Gaila hanging in the doorway.

"Hey, Gaila, how about some cultural exchange!" she calls. "Come in and tell us, do Orions play spin the bottle?" Gaila grins right back and saunters in without even asking what the point of spinning bottles is. It turns out that Orions don't play just because they've never heard of the game before. It is an awesome game, as Jamie herself pronounces it.

Half an hour later, Gaila is rather enjoying kissing a dark haired boy with shy, shaky fingers and a wet pink mouth. She enjoys it even more because when she pulls back and Jamie is watching her, blue eyes focused like a laser pointer. Licking her lips like she's the one who's just been kissed.

When it's Gaila's turn to spin the bottle, she's very, very careful and calculates the mass, angles and momentum in her head. Squeals victoriously when it points at Jamie, who just smirks at her and leans back on her elbows, watching with a forthright, amused stare.

Jamie tastes as good as she looks and there's nothing shy about her hands. Not here and now and not when they excuse themselves, because nice as they are, humans can be odd about what's for hiding away and what's for doing in the open.

They go back to Gaila's room. Her roommate's intense and kind of weird, but luckily not around this weekend, so it works. Jamie's mouth is as enthusiastic between Gaila's legs as it was between her lips and she makes these ridiculously happy sounds, "You smell so good, god, so pretty," she moans between licks. Like all she ever wanted was to taste Gaila right there.

Gaila just sighs and tangles her fingers in Jamie's hair, rubs her heels along the smooth lines of Jamie's back, and tries to pull her in closer. "I love humans," she says. That just makes Jamie laugh, the vibrations of it sending little sparks of pleasure through Gaila's skin, like data bytes on a machine.

They fall curl up, after, tangled up in Gaila's sheets. Jamie's shoulders are soft and pale as cream and Gaila pillows her head on one. She rubs her hand up and down the length of Jamie's spine until Jamie is practically purring against her, warm and rumbley-soft.

"You have scars," Gaila whispers when she finds them with her fingertips. They're broad and flat, just raised skin, really. They're all over Jamie's back and scattered over her ass.

"Good observation. I do," Jamie says and she sounds a little lazy-- still calm and sleepy, still, but she's gone stiff. No more purring cat, more like spine curved, claws ready.

Gaila frowns and finds herself going stiff too. "I don't-- do human manners say it's rude to ask? You've been so nice, don't let me be rude, please."

For some reason that turns out to be exactly the thing to say. Jamie laughs, relaxing again, and kisses Gaila on the mouth, warm and pleasant. She tastes like Gaila's orgasm and that works just fine for her. "You," Jamie says, "Are the least rude person I have ever met. Forget about it, okay?"

"Forgotten," Gaila says and nods. She puts her hands on Jamie's hips and slides down, teasing one nipple between her teeth and tongue. The sound Jamie makes then is her favorite so far.

After, when it's morning and there's a class to go to, Gaila takes her time putting her clothes on, long enough so that Jamie can see she has scars too. Jamie doesn't say a word, but she gives Gaila one of her careful, honest stares and nods her head like it's a salute.

That's the first time that Gaila thinks she might be able to do better than like humans-- she might be able to understand them too.

Spock

Against all logic and reason, he believed his human blood would keep him safe. In the end it only makes it worse, makes it so he cannot recognize the signs and symptoms in time. The burn of his blood is already relentless, overwhelming, before he understands what has become of him.

Before the blood fever had grown so strong he might have crawled into Nyota's bed and found relief in the coolness of her touch and the warm glow of her affection. Now, all he sees is red violence and black terror, the Pon Farr tearing through his veins like alien madness.

He thinks there is nothing he would not give to have it be an alien thing after all, one that could be rooted out, not this inner infection of blood and brain and cock that it is. Not his own self betraying him.

He locks himself into his quarters, every override he knows to keep him inside, keep them outside. If he sees them, especially his own Nyota, he cannot, he may-- it would be beyond bearing, beyond anything. To keep himself away is the only logical course of action, the last thing he can give to his friends.

He is not thinking of his Captain, or he would know that the odds of failure of this course of action approaches 100%. The Captain has never been slowed by a lock or a code in all the time he has known her. This time, dealing with the disorganized worked created of his feverish mind, most probably presents her with no challenge at all.

He can smell her before he even hears the door slide open. The last cringing parts of his control force him to speak, to shout, "You must not! Captain, you do not understand, I will do you harm."

She smiles when she steps into the room. He has a moment before the madness takes him to see that her eyes are blue and clear, forthright. "Yeah," she says. "I know you don't wanna hurt me, Spock. That if you could stop yourself... I know. You think I'd be here if it wasn't like that?"

"Captain," he groans and she takes a step toward him. Her expression does not change but there is a tension in her body, a hesitation. He is close enough to smell her emotions without touching her-- the Pon Farr driving his telepathy past where it should have been. It takes him a moment to recognize it, in part from his madness, in part because it is so unfamiliar in her of all people.

Fear.

He shakes his head, as if to push her outside, to refuse.

"Spock," she says, and her voice does not waver or break. "I understand what's going on. You can't hurt Uhura, I get that, that makes sense. But I can't let you die either. I'm here, okay? I can do this."

She unbuttons her uniform shirt and he loses the painfully thin grip on his control. He smells her fear, but it drives him on instead of back like it should, like it would if he were anything but what he is.

After, he can only determine how long after because of the chrono and the clocks, when the haze of madness finally clears from mind and body, she picks herself off the floor. He does not remember pushing her down there, does not remember letting her fall like a crumbled doll.

She uses the wall for support, making an odd awful noise when he tries to go to her, to help her stand. Her face is blue and green and purple, letting him know it has been long enough for the bruises to come and for the first to start to fade. Her eyes meet his, shadowed, exhausted, but still head on.

He slides down and away from her, onto his knees. "Forgive me," he says.

There is an echo of a smile in the curl of her mouth. "There's nothing to forgive between you and me," she says. She steps forward, legs trembling so horribly he is afraid she will fall, but she steadies instead. Comes to him and leans forward.

For a moment, he thinks she will kiss him. Then she hesitates, stops, and takes a careful step back, just out of arm's reach. "I'm sorry," she whispers and she presses her hand over her mouth. She sounds shocked, surprised at herself. "I-- I think I need a little bit of time."

He stares at the wall while she pulls on one of his uniforms-- her own is in rags and tatters. When he catches a glimpse in the mirror, the blue fabric hangs loose on her shoulders, sleeves past the points of her fingers. It makes her look small.

He keeps his eyes on the floor while she deactivates the locks and overrides on his quarters-- her own as well as his, and he understands now why no one interrupted them, no one made him stop. Then she walks out of the cabin, the door sliding shut behind her with a certain finality.

Uhura (the last time)

Uhura finds Jamie on the observation deck, sitting in a soft chair, knees pulled to her chest. The bruises are already gone along with the bloody black eyes, and if Jamie walks, it will be without the stomach churning limp, but Uhura can't imagine she'll ever forget what seeing them was like.

"Captain," she says. Jamie doesn't look away from the stars to see her. She swallows, clears her throat and tries again. "Jamie. You must really love him to have done something like... like that."

Jamie's mouth curls up, but she still doesn't turn to meet Uhura's eyes. "That's what Bones said," she says and shakes her head. "And you know, I'm not sorry I did it. Your boyfriend, he's a good First. I wouldn't... I wouldn't want him to die if I can save him with a lay, you know?"

"My boyfriend," Uhura repeats blankly.

That makes Jamie turn, finally, and blink at her. "You... you're not jealous or anything," she says. "I don't-- I would never, I'm sorr--"

"Don't, stop, don't," Uhura takes a jerky step forward to cut off the apology before it's said out loud. She's seeing Jamie stumbling into sickbay again. She takes a deep breath when Jamie goes quiet and just looks at her with those huge, startled eyes. "I don't know if I could have done it, that's all I mean," she mumbles. "If he were-- if I knew what it would be like going in. I was afraid."

That, of every ridiculous thing she could have said, makes Jamie smile at her. It's painful and a relief all at the same time. "I know you were, but you would have done it anyway," she says and now she meets Uhura's eyes without looking away, bright as everyday. "You love him."

"You did it instead," Uhura says and shakes her head. She'd been so sure she understood. So sure, until Jamie's smile. "I didn't have to."

"I didn't want you to have to," Jamie says, like it's supposed to be really obvious. Uhura takes another step forward and doesn't stop until she's right next to Jamie, both hands clutched on the arm of Jamie's chair. Jamie blinks those eyes at her and offers her another smile. "You would have. But you--"

"You did it for me," Uhura whispers. Her knees are shaky and she sits down abruptly on the floor, by Jamie's feet. "I thought it was for him, but it... you..."

Jamie slides down next to her, shaking her head like she's been misunderstood. "No, no, no. You love him. I want you to be happy," she says. Her hands are twitching restlessly like she wants to reach out but she's stopping herself.

There's nothing Uhura can say to that so she doesn't say a word, just reaches out with both arms to pull Jamie up against her. Jamie doesn't fight, she just stills at first, like it's a shock. Then she sighs and goes pliant, lets herself be gathered up and held close until she's almost in Uhura's lap. She's shockingly slight for all her muscle and she feels good, smells sweet underneath the faint, medicinal odor of sickbay.

Her voice when it comes is quiet and shaky, "Uhura. Lieute--"

"Jamie," Uhura whispers and hugs her harder, pressing her cheek against Jamie's face. The skin feels wet, but she's pretty sure she's the one crying, not her Captain. "You can call me Nyota, okay?"

Jamie stares at her and her own arms come up, slowly, hesitantly, to wrap around Uhura's back. "Okay," she says, like she doesn't quite believe it. "Nyota it is."

Nyota laughs roughly. "And I am holding you to making sure I find out all ten awesome things you can do with your tongue."

Jamie's arms tighten. "Hey," she murmurs and her eyes are cartoon wide and electric blue. Her voice is shaky, but solid. "Who says it's just ten? You think I haven't learned anything since we met?"


End file.
